


It Was Just a Headache

by elliotwritesgarbage



Series: sickfics [5]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Emetophilia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliotwritesgarbage/pseuds/elliotwritesgarbage
Summary: Tumblr ask:Could you do a sick kyoya if possible?





	It Was Just a Headache

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr April 2017.
> 
> (Original notes)  
> Anything is possible if you just believe! Anyway, here’s this (finally). I actually wrestled with this for quite a while. I hope you enjoy!

How long he had felt like this he couldn’t remember. Everything seemed fine that morning. He could only consciously remember feeling poorly after lunch, but he was sure the feeling had been lingering for much longer than that. His headache was not one that could have come on suddenly, it was far too deep-rooted and painful for that. He was surprised he could open his eyes with the amount of pressure surrounding them. The lights above him burned into his brain and the noise made his head throb every time it rose above a whisper. 

His stomach gurgled at every opportunity, making sure everyone around him knew how uncomfortable he was. Thankfully, hardly anyone was around him. One glare from his sick face scared off the other hosts, and he busied himself with pretending to balance the budget in order to ward off guests. Every sip of tea was harder to swallow. He had assumed the warm drink would soothe his migraine, but all it did was exacerbate the pain in his stomach.

What began as an uncomfortable feeling in his throat had gravitated towards the pit of his stomach, rolling in near contant waves. Every time his head throbbed, his stomach tinged uncomfortably. 

‘‘Kyo-chan!’’ The third year wrecking ball came barrelling out from his grouping of couches to rest his head on the table which Kyoya was pretending to work. ‘Have you tried the sweets we got in today?’’ 

‘‘No, I don’t care for sweets.’’

Honey looked like he was about to protest, but Mori led him away, murmuring about Kyoya not being in the mood. That was certainly true. The idea of the overly-sweet desserts Honey had asked for made his fragile stomach turn. His throat felt strange again, preparing him for something. He took another sip of tea. He had had plenty of migraines before, and rarely vomited. He could certainly handle the remaining hour of club. 

His optimism was undercut when Haruhi approached a few moments later. It took several seconds for Kyoya to realize he was being spoken to. Haruhi was looking at him expectantly.

‘‘I’m sorry?’’ His tongue felt heavy.

‘‘I asked if you were feeling okay,’’ Haruhi explained. ‘‘You seem a bit pale.’’

That was putting it mildly. Kyoya had managed to catch glimpses of himself when his computer screen went black from neglect. His eyes, partially hidden behind his glasses, were red rimmed and underlined with blue. His skin was paler than usual, and he seemed to be taking on a grey colour. In short, he looked like a corpse had woken and decided club activities were in his best interest.

His mouth protested the response by filling with bitter saliva.

‘‘I’m fine, thank you. Just a headache from everyone being so loud.’’

Haruhi nodded. ‘‘Want me to see if I can shut them up?’’

Kyoya shook his head. Haruhi was sweet for offering, but not a force in the universe could keep the host club quiet, even if there were guests. The piercing sound of the girl’s squeals felt like acupuncture needles being driven into his temples. The brightly lit room filled with the garish yellow of the girl’s uniforms and the sound of usually soothing music were torturous. 

‘‘Um, excuse me, Kyoya-senpai?’’ A timid voice asked behind him. He turned around. There stood a girl, shyly holding both her arms in front of her. ‘‘I noticed there was no one sitting with you…’’ She trailed off.

‘‘I’m not seeing guests today.’’ Every spoken word made his head pound harder. His face felt hot. His stomach churned painfully, and he swallowed back a torrent of saliva. He suppressed a gag. 

‘‘Oh, well…’’ Kyoya drowned her out. The imminent danger of vomiting all over the floor, or worse, this girl, were becoming more and more possible as he suppressed another gag. His heavy head swam with the effort. The next wave came from nowhere. Nausea hit him like a train, his stomach begging to relieve itself of its contents.

He began to mutter an ‘excuse me’, but bile was already rushing up his throat. He stood quickly, supplying himself with ample amounts of unwanted attention, and made it four steps in the direction of the nearest garbage can before falling to his knees with a powerful heave. His back muscles contracted, and a wave rolled through his body.

The club was deathly quiet. Everyone heard the ominous gurgle in Kyoya’s stomach, and then the throaty gag, and then the loud splat of vomit on the marble floor. Tamaki, the host king, was the first to react. He ran to the bin Kyoya was too preoccupied to reach. Kyoya took a deep breath before leaning downwards again, and opening his mouth for the second upheaval of sick. It splashed against the chunky puddle of his previous gag with a sickening sound, and soon Tamaki was beside him. Some of the girls squealed, and Kyoya could hear footsteps.

Tamaki hauled his friend up by the shoulders, breaking the string of filthy saliva between him and the floor. He half-helped, half-dragged Kyoya away from the puddle and put the bin in his lap.

As Kyoya’s body was wracked with violent gags, and horribly embarrassing sounds were pulled from him, Tamaki sat beside him with a hand on his back, encouraging him quietly. Haruhi hung around somewhere behind him. When Kyoya looked up, he noticed that most everyone else was gone. 

He spat into the can one last time. Tamaki’s voice was soft when he spoke again. 

‘‘You know, you should have just told us you were feeling sick.’’

Kyoya burped up another mouthful of vomit. ‘‘It was just a headache.’’


End file.
